


48 Hours

by megastarstrike



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Body Dysphoria, Eating Disorders, Fasting, Gen, ventfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 07:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megastarstrike/pseuds/megastarstrike
Summary: Last forty-eight hours without food. That's all Miu needed to do.





	48 Hours

**Author's Note:**

> in case you dont browse with the tags on, this fic centers heavily around eating disorders. click back if this is a trigger or you are uncomfortable with the topic.

One hour. She just had to last one hour, and she would give herself permission to stop.

Miu hummed to herself as she set the fasting timer on her phone, watching the light orange background of the app slowly take on a green hue. The number of seconds past counted up and let out a satisfying tick at each minute. It was always exhilarating to start a fast, as she had learned from her previous experiences doing so.

But they were always so boring.

She tore her gaze away from the screen of her phone to the decorations in her bedroom.

There was her bed, her most prized possession, with the dolls she wouldn’t admit she had planted underneath the heavy, white blankets. A wooden drawer was placed next to it. An alarm clock and a bracelet adorned with spikes sat on its surface along with a lone plastic trophy reading “Youth Award for Engineering.”

It brought a smile to her face. Of course, she won the award, she was the best student engineer in the whole damn country!

The smile dropped when she caught the reflection of herself in the standing mirror in the corner of the room.

And if there was an award for being the best at lying to herself, she would win it by a landslide.

 

* * *

Hour two.

In the midst of calculating dimensions for her next math project, Miu looked down at the fingers wrapping around the barrel of the pink mechanical pencil in her hand.

It was perhaps the only part of herself that she liked. Her fingers were long and slender, and she kept her nails well-maintained for that reason. She supposed her wrist could have been tinier, but the size of it didn’t bother her too much.

Miu swallowed the ball of dread clogging her throat and ignored the giant thighs squished against her chair.

 

* * *

 

Hour five.

Three in the morning was the perfect time to sleep, even if she had to wake up at six o’clock to make it to school on time.

Miu grumbled to herself, pushing her head into the pillows in defiance of the insomnia that usually held her brain captive. It didn’t work, of course, but she felt as if she had gotten just a little bit more control over her sleep schedule.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning in bed, she sat up with a scowl pulling at her lips.

_ Ah, fuck it, sleep is useless anyway. I should be working on my inventions, not wasting time on this bullshit. _

But instead of climbing out of bed to complete her calculations, a different set of numbers called for her attention.

Her total daily expenditure, as a sedentary sixteen year old girl who was 5’9 and 140 pounds, her total daily energy expenditure was 1787 calories per day. One pound of fat contained 3500 calories. If she continued fasting for the next two days, she would lose one pound. If she fasted for the entire week, she would lose at least three pounds.

That was a tempting offer.

She blindly grabbed for her phone, her hand meeting wood a few frustrating times before she finally managed to grab it. She tapped on her tracker app and squinted at the bright screen.

Five hours, thirty-two minutes, and two seconds had passed. That wasn’t enough.

_ Fucking pathetic. You can’t go five hours without food, you fatass? _

Miu slammed her phone back down on the drawer and pulled the blankets over her. Fasting for five hours wasn’t enough; that was child’s play. How about fasting for twenty hours? Or what about forty-eight hours?

Yeah. Forty-eight hours sounded like enough.

She slunk further underneath her blankets.

Forty hours wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough, and she knew it.

 

* * *

 

Hour fourteen.

The school’s cafeteria was always full, with there being almost a thousand students in her high school. Surprisingly, the noise levels stayed at a reasonable level (well, reasonable for a bunch of teenagers locked together in one place), and students mostly stayed at one table for the majority of the year.

Miu wanted nothing to do with any of that.

There was too much food around her. The sight and smell was overwhelming, and she fought the urge to gravitate towards the lunch lines. She leaned her back against the wall and shoved her face into her phone, attempting and probably failing to look as if she didn’t care about food.

_ It ain’t worth it, Miu. School lunch is nasty anyway. And someone like you shouldn’t be eating. _

“Yo, Miu!”

She snapped her head towards the direction of the call, her lips breaking into a grin upon recognizing the voice. “Well, well, well, look what we have here. Is that the tiny gremlin Kokichi?”

“Hey, gremlin status is 4’9. I’m at least five feet tall,” Kokichi said, holding up a palm in defense.

With the weird glances sent their way from their completely different appearances, it was always a pleasure to be around her best friend. Kokichi was always dressed in white or black while Miu preferred lighter colors like pink and yellow. She had kept her hair its natural blonde color, citing not wanting to damage her hair as her reason. On the other hand, she couldn’t count the number of colors Kokichi had dyed his hair on both of her hands combined. This month’s color seemed to be purple, as he had dyed it a couple of weeks back and hadn’t changed it since.

“You wanna come mess around in the science labs with me?” Kokichi asked, folding his arms behind his head.

Miu snorted and rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. You broke something while messing around on a lab, and now you’re in trouble for it.”

“Aw, you know me so well!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose in faux irritation but sighed and stepped forward. “Alright, whatever. Let’s just go to your stupid lab.”

“Yay!” Kokichi grabbed her wrist and took off, his feet slamming against the tiled ground as he weaved through the crowd of displeasured people, dragging her along with him.

Eventually, they made their way to the empty hallways, out of sight from the prying eyes back in the cafeteria. The utter noise from the students was nothing more than a mere buzz.

Then Kokichi stopped and turned to face her without warning. “I know what you’re doing.”

Miu’s heart stopped. She froze before regaining her composure. “Being a good friend and saving your grade?”

“Fasting. You’ve relapsed.”

She couldn’t speak. He had hit the nail on the head, trapping her underwater in the process. It was as if she were drowning in a shallow kiddie pool; all she had to do was lift her head, but she couldn’t.

His usual confident grin softened into a wry smile, and he patted her on the shoulder. “I’m on hour ten. Why do we do this to ourselves?”

Silence.

“Well, that’s enough of that. Let’s go!” Kokichi’s childish persona had returned, though Miu was unable to determine how much was real and how much was a mask he had put on for her sake. 

She didn’t want to figure that out today.

Miu equipped her mask and followed, playing her role as the bitchy best friend perfectly. 

 

* * *

 

Hour twenty.

“Miu!” her father called out, poking his head through her opened door. “You wanna go out to eat tonight?”

Miu smiled. She had rehearsed her lines perfectly. “Nah, I’ve got work to do. Got a project due tomorrow.”

“Well, you’ve got time to eat, right?”

“Nope. Schedule’s packed.”

His face fell, and he drummed his fingers on the side of the door. “Oh. I was thinking maybe we could go out as a family for once. We never really do that anymore, with my new job and you being so busy…”

Fuck. Nobody warned her she was about to make a sharp turn onto Guilt Trip Avenue.

But she couldn’t stomach the thought of eating. She was already giant enough, she didn’t need to indulge like a pig and make her body take up even more space. She shouldn’t even be taking up space at all. Surely there were better people and things that had more worth than she did.

“Miu? Are you okay?”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes, cursing herself for being so weak. “O-Of course, I am! I’m… I’m the greatest engineer to ever live. I’m gonna change the whole damn world!”

“You don’t look as sure of yourself as you usually do. Not even gonna give me a smile?”

She opened her mouth to say something in reassurance, but no words would come out. Instead, more tears formed in its place until she finally uttered out, “Please don’t make me eat. Please don’t.”

“Of—Of course, I won’t make you do anything you can’t. Just…” Her father sighed and gripped the doorknob, his back hunched over. “Take care of yourself, okay? I know you’re more than capable of that. Goodnight, Miu.”

And with that, he shut the door.

Miu glanced down at herself, barely managing to note the anxiety shaking her from top to bottom. She hated how weak her voice had become. She hated not being able to even sit down for a meal with her father, the person who had taken care of her for sixteen difficult years. She hated how this disease was destroying her from the inside and out.

But most of all, she despised how she still cried every time she so much as caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was still pathetic, unworthy,  _ fat. _ There was no other word that pinpointed her exact state of being like fat.

Her insecurities revealed themselves to her as she stood in front of the standing mirror in her room. Her hips were wide from fat, not bone structure. The inside of her thighs flopped every time she took a step. Her face was too fat. Her calves were too fat. Everything was too fat.

Fuck fat. Fuck feeling this way. And most of all, fuck the disease that had taken control of every aspect of her life. She wasn’t a person anymore; she was a vessel for a parasite that fed off depression and insecurities.

And with that, Miu checked the fasting timer on her phone.

Twenty hours, fourteen minutes, fifty-two seconds.

She was still fat.

 

* * *

 

Hour thirty.

Miu scowled at the buzz of her phone on the drawer next to her. She reached out and glanced at the screen, her heart falling at the familiar image of her best friend before she placed it back on the drawer and allowed the call to go to voicemail.

Beep!

“Hey, Miu,” Kokichi said. He spoke slowly, as if he were choosing every word carefully and setting them down like parts of a bridge. “I think I’m going to try this recovery thing again. I’m going to break my fast at Stars Cafe and… and I’m going to put some sugar in my coffee. Can you come with me?”

Miu pushed a pillow against her face, allowing the soft fabric to soak her tears.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this failure of a friend or this damn parasite.

She picked up the phone and tapped on his contact number, waiting for him to pick up.

“... Miu?”

“Listen,” Miu said, her voice shaky and weak. “I can’t go, but you need to get out.”

“What?”

“Recover. Heal. Don’t let this stupid disorder control you. I’m sorry I can’t support you through this, but other people can.”

A pause. “I… Okay. I’m going to recover for both of us. It’s just…”

“What is it?”

His voice fell to a whisper. “I don’t want to eat. I’m so scared.”

Miu brought her knees close to her chest and rested her head on top. Her eyes were puffy like the rest of her body. “I know.”

“Do I have to?”

“Please.”

“... Okay.”

The call ended, leaving Miu alone like she always had been.

 

* * *

 

Hour thirty-three.

She was so hungry.

She didn’t deserve to eat.

 

* * *

 

Hour thirty-seven.

Maybe if she was skinny enough, people would actually care about her. Maybe they would look past her flaws as a person, or maybe she would become the perfect person she’s always strived to be.

Then she scrolled to see a picture of herself and her father at the park a year before her disorder had taken over with smiles and happiness almost radiating from the image. Next, a candid picture of Miu close to the camera, struggling to take her phone from the rat she called a best friend. A few pictures later came a class photo with her in the middle.

People cared about her. Why didn’t she believe them?

 

* * *

 

Hour forty.

_ All you think about is food. Stop being a fatass for once, and focus on your work. _

It was scientifically proven that eating less than what you were supposed to eat impacted work production and quality of that work. In fact, it wasn’t even science; it was common sense.

But Miu never paid attention to those rats throwing hundreds of lab reports at her and screaming about restriction fogs.

Instead, she popped open a can of zero calorie soda and gulped it down, watching the world burn around her.

 

* * *

 

Hour forty-eight.

Her fast was complete. She could finally eat now.

Normal, healthy people would have already planned a meal beforehand and would be celebrating their progress with their friends. They wouldn’t be letting their diet interfere with their daily functioning and social relations. They would be happy to eat.

But all Miu felt was empty. Nothing had changed.

Miu opened her fasting tracker, her body still void of emotion even as a celebratory message congratulating her on her fast played, throwing confetti everywhere. 

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

She set the timer for another forty-eight hours and lied down, waiting for death to claim her.


End file.
